Category: Review

Did you spend last Friday spending four hours scouring through Netflix, constantly pressing through a swarm of films that could either be masterpieces or a load of ‘meh’? Do you want to find something unique to watch with the artsy, socially conscious friend you’ve invited over for a movie night? Do you want to expand your palate of films beyond superhero movies and Office episodes you’ve watched at least three times already? Do you want to spend some time immersed in another culture without having to leave your living room?

International films on Netflix can be an especially difficult place to navigate, as much of the library consists of inaccessible arthouse fare that won some awards but virtually no audience or crummy action films that smash together the slapstick of the Three Stooges with action setpieces that would make Jason Bourne’s head spin.

I’ve put together a short list of three films if you’re considering a break from the normal movie night and want to wander (without too much culture shock, cinematically or otherwise) into some distant or not-so-distant lands. These are just appetizers before developing a taste for international film genres, so they’re not necessarily the “best” international films on Netflix, just some of the ones I find the most accessible to newbies of international cinema.

1. Filmistaan

Indian movies bring a lot to mind. Absurd dance routines, crazy car chases, slapstick humor, and mustachioed embodiments of machismo to name a few. Thoughtful dramedy about India/Pakistan relations is definitely not one. Filmistaan, an Indian film originally screened at the Busan International Film Festival, did not receive its nationwide release in India until 2014. It’s a shame this film doesn’t get more recognition, treading a very thin line between embracing the ridiculousness of the cinematic legacy of India it draws from (the main character is a Bollywood fanatic and aspiring actor) and the harsh realities of the tensions at the border between India and Pakistan.

The film’s initial premise serves as a kind of foil to the corny Bollywood-style narratives most people associate India with. Opening on Suneet, or “Sunny,” a perpetually out-of-work actor, struggling through several auditions with a less-than-mediocre talent to balance out his delusional dreams. Eventually, however, Sunny does get a role in a film, only this time he’s the assistant director, and he’s working for an American film crew looking to film at the dangerous border between India and Pakistan.

Next thing you know, hapless Sunny, a Pujabi Hindu, gets captured by Islamic militants, who trap him in a crudely constructed jail cell in a small village on the border in the hopes of retrieving some information on the Americans he worked for or a hostage trade. Unfortunately for them, the villagers around him partake in the highly illegal trade of foreign films, peddled by the very owner of the house Sunny’s confined in. Sunny’s knowledge of film endears him to the population, and before long, the Indian makes fast friends with a group of Pakistani film enthusiasts.

I don’t want to give too much away beyond that, but leaves the viewer both educated and inspired by the efforts of Sunny to connect with his captors. Sunny encourages the isolated villagers to dream, empowering them with the timeless gift of storytelling. Filmistaan portrays film as a natural bridge between disparate peoples, with romance, humor, and music as unifiers in a very divided world. For the makers of Filmistaan real change may not be in the hands of politicians and policymakers, but in the artists around the world who focus less the borders between us and more on sharing the stories inside us.

2. Sing Street

You may not know the name John Carney, but his work on the breakout hit Once, which, recently adapted into a Broadway musical of the same name, rocketed him to indie filmmaker fame back in 2007. The film featured the hit folk song, “Falling Slowly,” written by its star, Glen Hansard. The song went on to win 2007 Academy Award for Original Song and probably plays frequently at your local coffee shop. An Irish filmmaker facing sudden success, Carney leveraged his breakout hit for a deal with producer Judd Apatow to direct an $8,000,000 American musical (while still a modest budget, this number marks a significant upgrade to the $150,000 price tag of Once). Starring Mark Ruffalo and Kiera Knightley the film, the film, titled Begin Again, should have been Carney’s coming-out party to mainstream American filmgoers. Instead, while it did earn a very good return on investment, the transition to Hollywood filmmaker resulted in a loss of the musical magic that Carney composed in 2007. His next film, Sing Street returns to his Irish roots, casting mostly unknown actors in the main roles, cutting the budget of his previous film in half, and emulating a lo-fi musical setup backed up by fantastic talent rather than brutalized with over-production. Sing Street acts as a great return to form for the director, prompting us to discover our own crazy dreams through a great script and even better music.

Centering on the journey of teen Conor Lawlor, who goes from awkward outcast to promising rock musician in a little under two hours, the film takes place in 80s Dublin. After meeting the aloof wannabe model Raphina (played by Lucy Boynton) and falling head over heels for the mysterious delinquent, Conor does the only sensible thing to impress the girl of his dreams: start a band. By sheer luck or curious providence, the hodgepodge gang of amateur musicians under the leadership of Conor and rabbit-loving Eamon (hilariously portrayed by Mark McKenna) manages to make some great music. Carney, who put together a team of excellent musicians and songwriters to compose the teen rock anthems, leaves viewers with rhythms that I guarantee will replay in your head for days, even if you don’t listen to the original soundtrack on Spotify on repeat, which you will be tempted to do. Although not an indie film per se (it was distributed by the Weinstein Company and Lionsgate), Carney strips away much of the over-production that plagued Begin Again and crafts a stripped-down experience that celebrates the raw, whimsical nature of youth, creativity, and the dreamer in all of us. I’ve seen it two times with small groups of friends and after each viewing, the entire room erupted with the echo of ludicrous hope, “WE SHOULD START A BAND!” After watching Sing Street, you’ll probably say this too.

3. Theeb

Out of all of these films, Theeb is the least accessible, with more than a few sections that linger a little too long on unimportant details and desolate vistas. However, I would recommend people to watch this film because of how it successfully captures the spirit of classic minimalist Hollywood adventures like The African Queen or True Grit and transplants it to the Arabian desert. Directed by British-Jordanian filmmaker Naji Abu Nowar, the film represents a magnificent step forward for Middle-Eastern cinema. Gritty and intense, the film pits the titular young Theeb (a Bedouin orphan played by Jacir Eid Al-Hwietat) against both the elements and the raiders that patrol the World War I era wilderness of Wadi-Rum (a dry valley in Jordan more often referred to by westerners as The Valley of The Moon). With very little dialogue in English (and very little dialogue in any language) the film relies on its visual and auditory intensity to ratchet up the tension. The cinematography is top-notch for a Middle-Eastern production and so is the sound design. The terrifyingly beautiful landscape of the Arabian desert pops out in glorious color and depth. Like many of the Hollywood adventure films whose influence permeates through this film, the atmosphere obscures the story on several occasions (one of my few criticisms of the film) preventing the viewer from developing an emotional connection to the pre-pubescent protagonist. As the first Jordanian film nominated for an Academy Award, Theeb is not only a fantastic old-school wilderness adventurebut a gateway film into the increasingly important and totally unique artistic landscape of Middle-Eastern film.

Last year’s Stranger Things was the breakout TV hit of the year. A huge win for Netflix, which, while cranking out some excellent original series for a few years, never quite made the same mainstream splash that they hungered for. While shows like House of Cards and Orange is the New Black were critical darlings, they were still niche dramas, limited in viewership by both the subject material and mature content (most of Netflix’s original content aimed for a TV-MA rating to compete with adult drama cable behemoth HBO). Stranger Things meanwhile, is much easier to distribute to the widest possible audience (and watch in the living room before the kids’ bedtime).

However, what Stranger Things did not do was sacrifice compelling storytelling. The power of Stranger Things was not in the particular market value of a TV-14 show on a network who couldn’t seem to bridge the divide between populist comedies (ala Fuller House) and gritty, adult-themed dramas (ala almost all of the “well-received” bunch of Netflix’s live-action repertoire), but rested in the superb storytelling efforts of the Duffer Brothers to bring the 80s back onto our TV screens in glorious HD, exchanging the VCR player for the world-wide-web. The entire first season pulled off the glorious intermingling exhilaration of fear and discovery that permeated much of 80s sci-fi, including Spielberg classics like ET, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, and The Goonies (which, while not directed by Spielberg, was partially written by him and showcases his unique storytelling flare). Stranger Things, emulating these classics, embodied some of the best classic Hollywood escapist storytelling I’ve seen in a long time, leaving you at various times clinging to the edge of your seat or uncontrollably giggling in youthful anticipation at how the heroes we grow to love will respond to the next move of the villains we’re conditioned to hate.

When it was announced that Stranger Things’ second season was announced (officially titled Stranger Things 2) I knew one thing for certain. It could never outdo the first season. Not because it couldn’t be a better season, but it couldn’t take what the first season did successfully and improve on it.

Luckily, Stranger Things 2 did exactly what great sequels do. Instead of improving on the first installment, it just changed the formula a little. Instead of making the scares better, they made them bigger. Instead of reuniting all of the “Party” at the beginning, this season divides it before bringing the whole gang back together for the season’s climax. The change reminds me of how different 80s classic Alien (referenced in the first season) and its sequel Aliens. Instead of reinventing the successes of the former, the successor expanded the scope, escaping the trap of drawing too many comparisons. This shift in structure has mostly successful results, with a few missteps. One is an almost-great stand-alone episode that ends up wasting the talent of its two leads and a subplot that would feel like a dead-end were it not for the ratcheting up of romantic tension for two characters.

Once again, one of the greatest strengths of the series lay in its performances. Millie Bobby Brown is predictably excellent, with her tense exchanges with David Harbour’s Hopper particularly thrilling examples of her ability to balance the rage and vulnerability that made her such a thrilling performer in the first installment. However, the breakout performer of the sequel is Noah Schnapp playing a tortured Will Byers, who, after spending most of the first season absent from view, gets his just reward in a much meatier role. I don’t want to give too much away, but Schnapp manages to convincingly portray a boy split between two worlds, between light and darkness.

The rest of the cast manages to bring back the characters we loved with appropriate gusto, but also convey believable growth in their personalities. All of the original party would have their hands full dealing with the dramatic onset of puberty even if it weren’t a year after a nearly universe-shattering event and most of them play these little transformations very well. One sad exception is that of Finn Wolfhard, who plays Mike, although this deficiency is more the fault of the scriptwriters than the actor. Struggling to retain his authority in “The Party” Mike spends most of the season acting like an angry brat, although the character does eventually get some redemption in the latter half of the season.

The new additions are all welcome, albeit not all well-executed. Billy and Max, who play the “new kids in town” do provide some great material and new conflicts, but they are still more like pretty cardboard cutouts than people. Max is by far the stronger character, although Dacre Montgomery hams it up successfully as a kind of proto-Steve Herrington with serious anger issues, giving us a human antagonist, although in his case, not a well-rounded one.

That being said, speaking of Steve, Joe Keery returns with his gravity-defying hairstyle and infectious smirk, continuing his personal journey from the sometimes insufferable hard-partying persona of the first season to a relatable high school senior struggling to find his place in the world. His unlikely bonding with Dustin (played excellently by Gaten Matarazzo) during several later episodes providing a great example of the character’s dramatic growth.

The other, more technical elements of production are also excellent, although the original score does leave something to be desired after the excellent original music from the first one. The directors brought in for this season also did a bang-up job on helping create a tone, that while consistent with the first season, quickly takes us to new territory emotionally and thematically, forcing us to think about familiar characters in different ways. We even get two excellent episodes directed by none other than Pixar alum Andrew Stanton (WALL-E, Finding Nemo). Overdone CG of the upside down (the result of the increased budget of this season) can become tiring and disconcerting (and not in a good way) after a while, especially in the first few episodes.

To conclude, Stranger Things 2 provides a satisfying return to Hawkins, Indiana. I’m honestly divided on whether I consider the first season better or not. They say you can’t fall in love with the same girl twice, and I think that’s true of TV shows too. The thrill of discovery does fade, but just like good relationship partners, Stranger Things isn’t too worried about recreating the first few dates in an effort to recover the distant magic of new love. Instead, it encourages us to fall deeper in love, enveloping us into a world that is bigger and scarier, while also being more hopeful, as greater threats help inspire greater heroes.